Monday, December 17, 2012
This fete galante has come to a close. After 39 days, The Philippines has kindly asked us to take our leave and pack up our wares. Gingerly, we tuck our tissue wrapped porcelain into our picnic baskets and prepare to skip into the yon. Over our shoulders, gentle yet insistent waves purr, "get out, get out, get out." Bundle up those notions and trimmings, those cares and dreams. Nestle burrito rolls of sandy panties between the crinoline and farthingale. And when the covered wagons groan weak with the weight of our past, we can look once more at what was, what never will be again. Blow your kisses to the creepy crawlies. Wave goodbye to the frivolity of yesteryear. Exhale one last hot breath over the sweat in the sand. Salt on salt. Life sucked dry. And when you've said your final farewells, trundle onward, gentle readers. Trundle into your futures until you hear the camera's final whir. That last clickety clack of an empty magazine. The flicka flicka flicka of one lonely frame of film ticking down to silence. Fin. Let's recap, shall we?
We begin our final chapter of our torrid Filipino tale with the night chirping all around us. The crickets sing a mournful tune for our lost hot tamale. Looking around, the camp is a little blander, a little *yawn*. Fetid clothes hang limply. An empty pot where abuela's rice and beans once sat proudly now sits empty and alone. Little footprints marking out the Merengue encircle the dying campfire. Yet our four remaining Survivors, giggle and guffaw. Yo, Melty (Michael) and Blair (Lisa), are you still giggling and guffawing this morning? Has the joy of kicking out your one and only chance of winning lingered? I wonder...
Golden Boy (Malcolm) is the only one whose giggles are tinged with worry. That feisty Shakira (Abi-Maria) dropped a compliment bomb and now he's left to sweep up the pink mist and body parts. Not only did she not go gentle into that good night, but she laid a wreath of laurel atop Golden Boy's head. With anger and resentment, Golden Boy rips the wreath off his head and tangles with the leaves caught in his tendrils. Furiously he tries to bury the crown deep in the sand hoping no one remembers ever seeing it. Maybe no one noticed. Maybe they were too busy giggling...
And this brings us to the big Reward Challenge. Come on in guys! For today's challenge, you will race through a series of obstacles collecting bags of puzzle pieces along the way. Once you have all three bags of puzzle pieces, you will then use the pieces to solve a puzzle. But hold onto your nipples, bitches. This isn't just a regular ole Reward Challenge. This is a Reward Challenge that will inexplicably give the winner a huge advantage in the final Immunity Challenge. Como what? Why? Have we ever seen this before? Can't you just toss another enormous meal their way - I think it's been 8 hours since they've last gorged themselves on a buffet - and be done with it? What is this cockamamie advantage you speak of? Come back from Clever Clever Land, producers. Different doesn't always mean "better". Oh well. Survivors ready, go!
The players burst forth and as has been the norm lately, Melty and Golden Boy take an early lead with Dr. Denise somewhere in the middle and Blair way far behind wrestling with the skirts of her burka. If we fast forward to the puzzle portion, we'll find Denise furiously sliding pieces in and out - kind of like she does daily with her penis and vagina displays back in her sex office. "This one goes here and that one goes there." Melty, however, doesn't play with penis parts on a daily basis so he sits in a confused jumble while the puzzle pieces leap out of the puzzle frame - on their own accord - and into this lap.
Without a prayer and a clue, we can count Melty out and focus our attention on the good doctor and the young stud. Sliding a crucial piece into place, Golden Boy makes it over the hump and is able to slide the remaining pieces back into their rightful homes. There is no stopping him now as GOLDEN BOY WINS REWARD!!!
Back at Migrayne (Dangrayne), a woefully exhausted stench lingers in the air. Not only is everyone plum tuckered out, but that pesky Golden Boy has won an advantage in the next Immunity Challenge. Blair, in particular, is miffed and ticked and kerflipped. Ever since her brother Injustice visited the camp and gave her an injection of the naughty stuff, Blair's bloodlust for Golden Boy has been insatiable. At night she howls and claws at the earth while snarling and drooling over his sleeping form fighting the urge to sink her fangs into his tan and inviting throat. The longer he stays in this camp breathing and moving and adjusting his swim trunks just so, the more she craves his scarlet life force dripping down her chin. Plus, he's just so freaking good at everything! This Elizabeth Bathory of the Survivor world can only lay dormant for so long. It was the "Sister! Sister!" that set her off. We all have a trigger word that gets our juices flowing and makes our primal instincts bubble to the surface. "Sister" is Blair's ("Nipple" is mine).
Speaking of Golden Boy, he has long had a final three deal with Melty and Blair - only, I don't think they really know about it. Injustice left 7 weeks ago and Blair has been licking Melty's many bloody wounds to quench her thirst for strapping young buck blood. Ever since the Jeff Kent days, where a rotted parsnip and a carpet fiber equaled a million dollars, Blair has pined for Golden Boy's demise. And even though she turned on him in the past - lied to his front, pinched him in his back - Golden Boy still trusts her. In fact, he trusts her so much that he has now completely turned on his best good friend, Dr. Denise, Medicine Woman.
Dr. Denise and Malcolm have a lengthy history together. They survived the tyranny of Dreads (Russell) , were cruelly ripped apart midseason, and then happily reunited like a Parent Trap movie. This unlikely couple warmed our cockles. Their little hand dances and high fives made us want a wiggedy whack friendship just like theirs. Unfortunately, wiggedy whack has a short shelf life especially with that creepy Blair and Melty buzzing about camp murmuring about apostles and angels and vanilla wafers (surely Jesus tastes like vanilla, right?). With platitudes and beatitudes hanging everywhere you turn, you can't help but doubt your inner goodness. Or the goodness of your best good friend.
So, with Golden Boy and Dr. Denise eying each other up and down suspiciously, all Melty and Blair had to do was kick back, puff on a couple of smokes and wait for the two players who actually deserve to win this game to come a'running begging for safety. And that's exactly what happened. Golden Boy heard the rumors in the wind that Dr. Denise would be hard to beat so he dropped that prune like a hot potato and pledged his allegiance to the Christian Right. Similarly, Denise has been hearing some awfully good things about this Golden Boy lately. A) He's golden and gold is always good, never bad. Charcoal would be bad. Festering pus sores would be bad. But Golden Boy is neither. He's shiny, hard and looks fabulous with a tan. B) People like a Golden Boy. He's good for all occasions. He's fun at holiday parties, devilishly handsome in a lederhosen while scrubbing your kitchen floor, and knows his way around the back of a bar. Clearly, he must be destroyed.
From the looks of things, Blair and Melty are sitting pretty high atop their perch of judgment. No matter how many times I go over the calculations in my head, these two chuckleheads have a majority and will most certainly be going to the final three together. It doesn't even matter who wins Immunity. They'll both go in every scenario. The problem is that they don't very often agree on much. Blair wants to cut her threats loose as soon as possible while Melty wants to suckle them and take them to the end. You see, Melty has heard these rumors about Golden Boy, but he doesn't believe them at all. Somewhere in the fleecy cotton woolly section of his brain is a part that tells him he is the Sole Survivor. When Shakira hit him in the head with that coconut way back when, she must have broken the pulley that carries oxygen to Melty's noggin. You need to understand that Melty's brain doesn't look like yours or mine. His is made of legos and string and looks a lot like a dumb waiter. Only one thing can be delivered at a time - whether it be oxygen, pain, sight, recognition, memory. So when one of those strings breaks, we get a broken record of whatever it is he last heard. Today the record scratches... s-s-s-s-sole survivor, s-s-s-s-sole survivor.
And then everyone died.
And this brings us to the big Immunity Challenge. Come on in guys! For today's challenge you will stand in the scorching sun and balance a ball on some sticks. Every 5 minutes your sticks will get longer while the softcore porn ab-cam zooms in on your tummies (except burka Blair's) and tries to look down your shorts. While your ripply taut muscles glisten in the sun you'll need to keep your balls from dropping. Except for you Golden Boy. If you drop your ball, you get another chance. Survivors ready, go!
The challenge begins and while the first round was simple enough with tiny little pixie sticks, we can see that Golden Boy is going to have a problem. All those bitches telling him he'd win everything has seeped into his brain and now his hands have a touch of the Parkinson's. Hey, I get it. I'm the exact same way. It drives me crazy when people say, "I can't wait for your next blog!" I don't know why, but it's like a festering fart in my face as I try to write. That one tiny comment can wreak havoc on my entire existence. And apparently Golden Boy is the same way. Which is why we should probably get married and have a lot of sex. What do you say Golden Boy? I've got the lederhosen right here.
But I digress! Look, you would too if you had to shuffle through photos like this one. I mean, come on! One inhale and you know what's going to happen. I'm not going to say it. I'm a dignified writer who references Disney movies and obscure historical serial killers. Again, tangent. (My god, this blog sucks today.)
So, Michael J. Golden Boy has a spasm in like round 2 and this happened. Naturally, his "touch" of Parkinson's is now full blown and attacking his entire central nervous system. We all know what's going to happen now. It is written all over Golden Boy's face. While he is a determined young buck, he has a teeny tiny problem of whisking away the bad thoughts and replacing them with happy ones in times of stress. And so, without a breeze, without a jostle, only with the camera strangely caressing his torso, Golden Boy flubs again and is out of the challenge. In anger he chucks his sticks at Dimples' head while fighting back tears of frustration. Come, come, Golden Boy. Rest your head on my bosoms. Shhh, there, there. *handcuffs Golden Boy to nightstand*
Back at the challenge, we are left with who we are left with. It is an unremarkable threesome, really. Whoever wins, it doesn't matter. We know who they'll pick. We know how this will play out. To their credit, they duke it out a little longer with Denise dropping next followed by Blair. So, ugh, MELTY WINS IMMUNITY!!!
Back at camp everyone congratulates Melty. Thin, sheer congratulations. Flimsy, meaningless congratulations. Congratulations' that don't mean anything. Congratulations' that you can easily poke your finger through. So while the monkey cymbals in Melty's brain were clapping with joy, Golden Boy confesses that everyone telling him he'd win really threw him off his game. In fact, it was Dr. Denise who laid it on pretty thick beforehand. Was it a reverse psychology thing? Did she know showering Golden Boy with compliments would completely freak him the fuck out? I wonder... tricky tricky Medicine Woman. It's tricky to rock a rhyme, to rock a rhyme that's right on time. It's tricky.
So with the clang clang clanging in his noodle, Melty is very proud of himself. He hasn't tripped over anything or rammed a crustacean into his cornea yet today. And he has won Immunity. It's a banner day that calls for a smug face and an "I told you Golden Boy wasn't unbeatable." Dude, you held some sticks together. When you have Cocoa Puffs and cotton balls for a brain, it's easy not to let outside thoughts invade your mental clarity. Your thoughts get stuck in your creaky pulleys and just kind of hang out there until someone accidentally bumps into you and sends them to the proper nerve center.
All anyone can do now is make their case to the duo in charge. Again, how the hell did this happen? But, here we are with both Denise and Golden Boy pleading their cases to Melty and Blair. Denise says what Shakira and others have been saying at every Tribal Council - "No one can beat Golden Boy." Blair licks it up and loves it while Melty is offended that no one talks about him that way. He lost an eyeball, a tooth, scraped his knee, jostled his pulleys, broke a toe, survived an ember attack yet no one is singing his praises like they do the Golden Boy. Plus, if everyone thinks Golden Boy is so great then wouldn't it be better to win Survivor going up against the fiercest competition? There's that annoying morality crap turns people into dummies and ends up costing them a million dollars. It's always rearing its ugly head and waving pudding fingers in your face trying to lull you into a sense of uselessness.
And here we are at our first Tribal Council of the night. I'm going to kind of cruise through this because, let's face it, the only semi-interesting part of this finale episode was the jury. I hate to say I told you so (no I don't), but that is what happens when you lose the only player serving up any drama. The last thing I want to see is a bunch of people getting along. No one wants to see that! I want 13 episodes of Shakira spitting Brazil nuts in everyone's eyes and sprinkling the air with putas. Come back Shakira... come baaaack.
So, blah blah blah. In the end, Melty pussies out and we are forced to say goodbye to our man candy as Golden Boy is the 15th person voted out of Survivor Philippines. Golden Boy had a lot of promise for villain status early on, but it never really panned out. He went the way of the nice guy and I think it clouded his judgment a little bit. Had he stayed loyal to Denise, brought Shakira into the fold and just got his ass into that final three, he would be a millionaire today (or standing on the corner of the freeway selling fruit if you're Jeff Kent). Golden Boy played an excellent game up until those last few weeks where he somehow let the power fall into the hands of an indecisive Christian and the camp jester. However! The good news is he'll be getting another chance to redeem himself. That's right, ladies. Golden Boy will be back for Survivor Caramoan. And he goes into it with the biggest advantage you can ever have in Fans v. Favorites - at the time of filming, no one (fan or fave) had any idea who he was. So, good luck Golden Boy. It's been a pleasure embarrassing you these past few months. I look forward to doing it again in February. And, call me! I've got those lederhosen all ready for you.
Back at camp, the final three bemoan how brutal that Tribal Council was. Well, in front of each other they do, but once you get those scamps alone, their real feelings come tumbling out and they're very different from feeling sorry for poor sad sack Golden Boy. Denise, the queen of matter of fact, tells it like it is. She outwitted Golden Boy, plain and simple. Which, if we're being really real, isn't exactly true. The truth is that Blair and Melty were less scared of her than they were of Golden Boy. Speaking of Blair, is that her burka I see strewn on the shore? Yup. Blair is having celebratory naked time in the water while Melty is off pouting because Golden Boy congratulated Denise at Tribal Council for winning a million dollars. That last little remark by our resident stud really chapped Melty's ass which, naturally, makes me giggle. It's always funny to see a grown man act like a 13 year old girl who just got passed over for the winter formal. Maybe he'll ask you out next year Melty. Fingers crossed!
Let's skip forward to the good stuff. And by "good stuff", I mean "mediocre crapola." I don't know. Correct me if you think I'm wrong, but I really hated this finale. There were a few classic Jury moments but nothing like Juries of yesteryear. This Jury was more into hearing themselves speak than they were into hearing answers to questions. And since I was so dissatisfied with the performance of these stoned miscreants, I've heavily edited the nothing material they thrust upon me. Let us begin.
First up is Dr. Denise. With a laser pointer to the Survivor logo, she begins her speech,
"I beat all of you bitches. Wut wut! Here I am and there you are. Peace out."
Blair is up next and unfortunately for us all, she is not quite as succinct as Denise is.
"My strategy wasn't pretty. I fell down, I dusted myself off, and I learned. It took me 86 weeks to figure out that Survivor was a game and had Injustice never told me that teeny tiny fact, I might not even be here today. But thanks to him *swoon* and the deep thrust of ideas he squirted deep inside me, I survived to play my ugly game. It wasn't pretty. But I threw a punch and knocked out the heavyweight Golden Boy. God be with you."
Lastly we have Melty.
"Returning player. Returning. Player. I did things with such FIRE this time. And I didn't even fall in! I love Survivor. I melt it from my innards. Partly, because the pus has to leak out once in a while or I get infected, but partly because I just LOVE this game so much!"
Blackbeard, please ask the finalists any questions you may have.
"Avast! Normally I'd congratulate all you scallywags, but not today. Shiver me timbers, I cannot do that. If you started this game with a holier than thou attitude - *cough Blair cough Melty* - and then played contradictory to that, you reap what you sow. Karma is a bitch! Arrr!"
And here comes Jello-Pop. With a slow long drag on his cigarette and a languid sip of what I can only assume is a Xanax/THC slushee, he begins...
"Hey, 'sup. Good game."
*collapses into a heap of tweed and suede as a lone Sobranie burns a hole through his Saville Row trousers*
Prickly Pete approaches next. With the toe of his shoe, he rolls Jell-O Pop over for a flat surface to stand on.
"Blair, they should call you Judas."
"You hide behind everyone you didn't vote for."
"But I, I, I didn't know Blackbeard was going home!"
"Shut up bitch and go make me a turkey pot pie."
*Blair wonders to herself where production keeps the pie crust*
"Denise, why did you play this game better than everyone else?"
"I looked for the cracks and I penetrated them. I'm a sex therapist you know."
Squirming and giggling her way over to her assigned mark on the floor, RC smooths down the front of her crimson dress before tangling her jittery fingers together into a nervous jumble of skin and bones.
"A huh huh, a huh huh, a huh huh."
*Denise, Blair and Melty quizically look at one another*
"A huh huh, a huh huh..."
*The Jury shifts uncomfortably while Shakira sneaks a hand into her own bra*
"A huh huh, a huh huh, a huh huh..."
*Blair looks at her watch wondering when RC's time is up*
"A huh huh. Blair, you're sneaky and sweet. A huh huh."
"Thank you RC."
"Melty, a huh huh, tell me about day 19."
"I thought Scurvy was going home! I never wanted to get rid of you."
"A huh huh, a huh huh, a huh huh... a huh huh, a huh huh, a huh huh."
All of a sudden, the laughter stops as RC inhales sharply and her body begins to teeter forward. Cupping one hand over the side of his mouth, Prickly Pete leans forward and whispers to no one in particular, "Tim-ber!" When RC's body hits the floor, we see one shiny ninja star plunged into the back of her skull. With a slow smirk creeping up the corner of her mouth, Shakira stares straight ahead and beams.
Clean shaven and, for some reason, wearing another infernal ponytail (Stop it! I'm giving you advice here, girl advice, NO MORE PONYTAILS!!), Golden Boy is up next.
"I didn't have questions until now. Denise, stop appeasing everybody."
"Don't nod, don't nod! Cut it out! You're doing it again, making everyone happy."
*Denise stares with wide eyes*
"I want to know why you played better than everyone else."
*Denise begins to nod causing Golden Boy to make a slicing motion across his neck.*
"Don't lie. Don't appease. Don't be everyone's friend."
"Appeasing is who I am and keeping the peace is part of the game. I'm standing here and you're standing over there. Wut wut!"
"You didn't answer my question."
"It was a dumb ass question. I'm better than you. End of story."
A smiling Jeff Kent steps up to the plate and he seems different, almost jovial.
"Melty, there are three types of people in the world. People who make things happen, people who watch things happen and people who wonder what the hell just happened."
*Melty's smile contorts into a hard thin line as the Jury bursts into laughter.*
"Which one are you?"
"I definitely make things happen. When my name was said that one time at camp. That time when someone said, 'Where did Melty put the machete?' I went and i found it. Sure, I sliced off the end of my nose, but I found the machete when people wanted it."
"Blair, tell me how you didn't play the middle."
"I wasn't on The Middle. I was on The Facts... whoopsie. Never mind."
*Jeff Kent scratches his head*
"I can't recall ever playing the middle. I was the first one to make a major move. I knew Golden Boy had an Idol so I tattled to Prickly Pete and then he twisted my plan and turned it into his own so... what was the question again?"
"Plan B! Plan B! I did that. Morning After Pill. That was all me."
And here comes the one and only Shakira. Looking lovely in a cha cha dress.
"Ooh, I miss your Puta Rice & Beans, Shakira!"
"Shut up Melty. My heart is broken. Do you even care if I vote for you?"
"I deserve your vote."
"You deserve my foot in your cabeza, puta."
"Outwit, outplay, outlast."
"Shut up moron. You're such an idiot."
Last but not least we have Scurvy. I'm going to skip the first 20 minutes of his speech because it was basically him talking about heart and soul and congratulations and oh shut up, I don't care.
"Denise, I'm confused by things you've said tonight. No biggie, you've shown the world you're an enormous bitch."
*Denise looks back stunned*
"Melty, you were so worried about your name coming up, but your name was never written down! Mine was written down fifteen times. Fif-teen. You were never the target I was. Never!"
*Melty begins to eat his face*
"Blair, would you like to share your secret or shall I?"
*points to Blair with force* "YOU, madam, were on a television show! From 1833 until 1996 you were on The Facts Of Life."
*turns to the Jury* "She was a TV star! American's Sweetheart! Guilty!!!"
Then, an interesting thing happened. All the God that Blair has ever known left her body, her soul, and her belief system in that moment. Poof! Just like that it was gone. Her eyes grew beady and black and she looked at Scurvy with an evil so pure that even I was impressed. Having said that, it was a great reveal by Scurvy and as much as I dislike him, I'll give him credit for that moment. He held onto that secret even while at Ponderosa waiting, planning, and plotting for this one moment. The pay off was worth it so good on you Scurvy. Now, go away. We're done here. Buh bye.
Bitch or not, the votes went the exact way they should have gone... CONGRATULATIONS DENISE!!! You have just won one million dollars (or a baggie of cigarette ashes if you're Jeff Kent).
Out of the choices we had left, I'm glad Denise won. I feel like she was the most deserving of the three, and hey, she reads this here little bloggy blog! Plus, it is incredibly comforting to know that her winnings will go towards vibrators and cock rings. I absolutely can't hate on that.
Overall, I enjoyed Survivor Philippines. There were a handful of casting missteps and some whackadoo production decisions (remember the ball in the mud forfeit???), but we had some interesting characters and hopefully I managed to entertain you all just a smidge. Super bitchy thanks to Shakira, Golden Boy, Jell-O Pop, Denise, Blair and Pixie for reading my silly drivel and taking the time to comment and/or send me love notes. More importantly, thanks to each and every one of you who come back week after week. Thank you for taking the time to comment whether it is to create insane stories of your own or just to yell at me. You guys rock. *dunk dunk*
So, what did you guys think of this season? Did the right person win? Was that finale as excruciating for you as it was for me? Did the Jury phone it in or were they all wasted? Comment it out bitches and have a great day! I'll see you back here Thursday, February 14th, 2013 for Survivor Caramoan!
And if you've enjoyed what I've done this season, please click on my PayPal Button and show a bitch some love.
Thanks to Rob Beasley for all of my Survivor photos!
Thursday, December 13, 2012
There is no sun. There is no samba. Your sequins and feathers cannot come out to play today. The paint on these walls chip and fall into lead clusters on the ground. The wallpaper lazily unfurls and limps into a soggy heap. The flowers in the vase wilt as the petals go plop, plop, plop. Even though the clouds keep coming - rapid, rolling, eating everything - the wind stands still and collapses into a pile of nothing. My glitter refuses to sparkle. The gin in my tub looks like sludge. The world around me is lifeless, colorless and odorless. I've lost my jiggle, my jingle, my jangle. My jiggles won't jingle or jangle. What is life without a hip scarf tinkling on the breeze? Without an insult on the wind? Without a hip bam to the throat? Colors dull and all that is left is the grey. Saturation, like my spirit, is negative. In the distance I hear a Brazil nut hit the tile and roll away. It leaves behind a silence and I am reminded of Eponine... And now I'm all alone again, nowhere to turn, no one to go to. Without a home, without a friend, without a face to say hola puta to. *dabs tears* Let's recap, shall we?
We near the end of our Filipino tale in the thick of night. The giant moon looms overhead as our last remaining Survivors come trundling into camp drunk on giddiness and safety. Shakira (Abi-Maria) stands fluffing the flounces of her dress while offhandedly thanking everyone for keeping her in the game. "Thanks putas. I'm in awe, really." And then she reached up into her bikini bottoms and whipped out a fake idol/voodoo doll that looks suspiciously like Jell-O Pop (Carter). As she waved it overhead and danced around the campfire, Blair (Lisa) looked thoughtfully into the distance remembering Jell-O Pop, "He was such a nice young man. Remember when he'd read us the sonnets? I could really use a smoke right now." Melty (Michael), swatting Shakira's celebration hips away from his face, replies, "He took it so personally. Check under the shelter. I'm sure he hid a spare pack next to his scarf collection." *sigh* No, Jell-O Pop did not leave behind any of his fancy Russian cigarettes. All that remains of him are the ashes in his pipe and a cashmere beret that is beginning to pill in the humidity.
Meanwhile, we find Golden Boy (Malcolm) stroking his chin and glaring at Blair out of the corner of his eye. At the last Tribal Council Blair mumbled some cockamamie something or other about going to the end with someone she can beat. Golden Boy, being gilded and polished and lickable, knows she's not talking about him. So, while it is cute and charming that Blair has finally decided to play the game, Golden Boy can't risk her hanging around too much longer. She's dangerous now. Not dangerous in the sense that she could actually win Immunity or use the Latin beat in her soul to rumba someone to death. No, she's dangerous in the way that she could whine someone into submission. She could bat her eyelashes, flash that Warner charm, and manipulate the rest into feeling sorry for her. Hey, it's worked for her so far. Could it actually get her the million?
A new day dawns and with it, a bitterness. A bitterness and resentment from everyone except for my white light Shakira. Shakira sits in innocence wearing a crown of daisies while the other old bitties do everything they possibly can to make her feel bad. Dr. Denise runs her fingers back and forth in the sand and mumbles, "Well, hopefully Jell-O Pop is resting well." Melty nods emphatically, "Yeah, I wonder what breakfast poem he's reading to everyone. Do you think it's Frost or Tennyson? Remember when he read Corso and made Blair blush? *sigh* We never did find out what happened to Beowulf. I miss Jell-O Pop so." Denise then reaches across Shakira to hand Melty a coconut, "I sure do hope his pillow was fluffy enough for him last night. What if they don't sell Sobranie's at Ponderosa? You know how he gets if he has to smoke American." Melty gasps and clutches his pearls, "OMG what if they only have Marlboro's?! Poor Jell-O Pop!" Listening to all of this, Shakira grabs her purse and keeps a stiff upper lip, "I'm going to get some water, putas."
And while Shakira is away, the catty sewing circle doth play. Hens pecking at the sand all angry at themselves for their own votes. Listen, you do-gooding fuddy duddies, I'm going to lay it out for you all simple like - One. Million. Dollars. ($2.56 if you're Jeff Kent) I'd cut every single one of you loose for one million dollars. Hell, for $20 I'd poke you in the nether regions and throw your most cherished family photos on the fire. For $50 I'd skin your pets and wear them on my head. So imagine what I'd do for a million dollars (some stale saltines and government cheese if you're Jeff Kent). You shouldn't be lolling about in the sand counting the days until Shakira goes home. You should be clawing and pining for a way to make sure she's sitting next to you in that final three. You seem to forget that she'll be hurling a ninja star at R.C.'s head during the question and answer portion. Which, naturally, will be followed by a short unfair Filipino trial and then a public hanging in the town square. She's not getting the million (some pieces of string and a broken rubberband if you're Jeff Kent) you chuckleheads!
Shakira herself knows she probably can't win. But she's made it this far. "Final three" has such a lovely ring to it. Like the ringing and jingling when Shakira walks up the beach. *jingle jangle, puta, jingle jangle* Plus, it would be another feather in her sequined bustle if she can prevent that pesky Dr. Denise from winning. So, after baking in the sun and sorting through all of her files on how to whack a sex therapist, Shakira decides to tell Blair just how insignificant she is. "You're a bottom, puta." I think Shakira meant to say "on the bottom", but she's Brazilian. Everything is sex and feathers down there. Sex and feathers and bongos.
After hearing she's a bottom, Blair blinks wide eyes and asks for more details. Shakira juts one hip out to the side and flicks a speck of sand off her shoulder, "Oh, you know, just be careful. Be very careful, puta." And then she kicked sand in Blair's eyes and skipped away. To Blair's credit, she doesn't really believe the Caipirinha that Shakira is serving. She doesn't believe it, but ever since her brother, Christopher Dollanganger, visited camp she's been filled with a new naughtiness. A new whisper of evil that lets her know it is OK to scheme, it is OK to plot, it is OK to flirt with Brazilian rage and roll around in it for a spell. The problem with this new naughtiness is that it is coupled with a newly found self confidence. Sexy brothers can do that I guess. *shrugs shoulders* Self confident Blair likes to do that fake, "How did I get so lucky to have all these opportunities to choose from?" thing. That, "It's my destiny" thing. No. No. It's not your destiny. Shakira and Denise have been there all along. So have Melty and Golden Boy. Everyone around you has always been there. The fact that you've just now opened your eyes to how to move them around like chess pieces isn't a hand delivered gift from God. It's called Survivor.
And this brings us to the big Reward Challenge. Come on in guys! For today's challenge you will race up and over a slide and into the ocean where you will grab fiiiive golden riiiings. Once you've collected both bundles, you must land one ring on each peg. First person to land all fiiiive golden riiiings will be picked up in a helicopter and taken to a boat with pizza and soft drinks where you'll get to swim with whale sharks. The winner will also get to choose two people to join them. Survivors ready, go!
The Survivors leap off the start and immediately Melty and Golden Boy take the lead. The boys stay in the lead with Dr. Denise and Shakira hot on their heels. Blair, however, begins to struggle as soon as she hits the water. Perhaps getting her 1920's bathing suit wet is weighing her down a little bit. That thing is like a giant burka swirling around her and coming dangerously close to smothering her face. You almost have to give her credit for doing as well as she's done in the past swim challenges. I don't think we ever stopped to consider that she's pulling an extra 200 pounds of wet fabric behind her.
So everyone gets their bundles and now it's a race against time and accuracy to see who can land their rings first. Melty makes quick work of landing his first three rings with Golden Boy, again, not far behind. Little spitfire Denise tells herself she's throwing Nuva Ring's on cervices and, hey, she lands one! Blair manages to nail a ring as well, but, let's face it, this race is all up to Melty and Golden Boy. Both have 4 rings on the pegs and toss, toss, toss... MELTY WINS REWARD!!!
The big question now is who will Melty choose to go with him. Actually, no it's not. We know who Melty will take just like we know that he'll injure himself again at some point during this episode. And kind of like how we know we'll have a prayer scene in the near future. We know! The only thing we don't know, and the only thing that keeps me on my toes - other than what curse words Shakira will spit into the wind - is when Golden Boy will let down his lovely locks. He's like my Rapunzel. Let down your hair goddammit! (Side Note: I can't believe he had his hair in a ponytail on the Jeff Probst Show. I could have killed him. If he pulls that crap at the Reunion, we're going to have a big problem.) But I digress... so yeah, Melty picks Golden Boy and Blair.
Hearing Melty's picks, Shakira crosses her arms over her body and looks sadly at the sand. Dimples notices as her lower lip begins to tremble and remarks that she looks heartbroken. Shakira shrugs her shoulders and wipes the weakness off her face. Once the ickiness is gone, she smirks and says, "I guess my vote doesn't mean anything." *glitter falls from the sky* Yes! That is how a Latin girl serves it up. If you do something to piss her off, she'll get you back for it. Maybe not now. Maybe not tomorrow. Nope, she'll wait until you're begging for her vote and then she'll throw this little scene right here back in your face like a monkey throwing poop. "You remember when you won that reward and you didn't pick me to eat pizza? No vote for you, puta!" *pow pow*
So while Denise and Shakira head back to Migrayne (Dangrayne) to be fake-nice to each other, the others are whisked away to the crystalline blue waters of the South China Sea. Aboard some sort of a booze cruise vessel, the three gorge themselves on soggy pizza, Costco cookies, and pop. Pop. Now, I'm a girl who has lived on both coasts - not Middle America. I know not of what this "pop" thing is. In my alcohol soaked existence, pop is the noise a bottle of champagne makes when you open it. But, to straight edge Christian Melty, pop is a drug. A wonderful drug that attacks your blood, your insulin and that "good time" part of the brain that makes you want to dance topless on a bar and make out with long-haired bartenders. And that is exactly what Melty does. He whips out his iPhone and gets his best girlfriend to tweet a pic of Golden Boy signing his boobs. And then he got into a fight with some frat guy giving him the side eye before making out with the bouncer and chipping a tooth on the end of a pop bottle while flashing the crowd his thong. Or... at least that's what I've heard drunk girls do. *whistles innocently.*
Before the high can become a memory and before the hangovers have time to settle in, the fearless crew of the Pop Cruise hold their fingers up to the wind and are able to decipher precisely where a giant creature is swimming up the road apiece. Once Nemo is spotted, the Filipino crew kicks each Survivor overboard one by one for the swimming experience of a lifetime. And I gotta tell ya - it certainly was a majestic experience. Watching that giant fish come swimming up out of the blue only to discover Japanese artist Yayoi Kusama had gotten her hands all over it was the last thing I expected to see. First, she destroyed all those Marc Jacobs bags and now... a fish! Not everything needs to have polka dots on it for crying out loud.
Once the swimming is over and Melty got his ass handed to him by a fish head-butt, Golden Boy takes what is probably his last opportunity to do some strategizing without Denise lurking nearby. He tells both Melty and Blair that it'll be a blow out if any of them are up against Denise in the final three. She made it through the horrifying reign of Dreads, she survived every Tribal Council ever in the history of Survivor, she's a tough competitor with a body like one of those Leonardo DaVinci muscle drawings, she's articulate, and she has no real enemies. Add all of that up and it's like cat nip to those jurors. Melty nods and takes it all in before giving his answer with a big toothy orange soda stained grin. Meanwhile Blair thinks to herself, "Those are the same qualities you have, Golden Boy." Jostling on the boat while holy water sluices around inside of her, Blair doesn't agree with the Denise plan. She doesn't agree and she also doesn't lie. But this once. But this one itty bitty time she'll lie. It's just a tiny white lie and God is probably busy right now shaking his head at Shakira chasing Denise around the beach with a machete. He probably won't notice Blair fist pumping Golden Boy and making a final three deal that she has no intention of keeping.
Day turns to night and then night turns to morning. Only, on this morning, Denise is in mourning. Sometime in the night, a creature of unknown origin ('shakirachnid' from the Animalia kingdom, Anthropeda phylum, Arachnida class, Aranae order, Mebarek family, Shakira genus - native to forests of South America east of the Andes: Columbia, Venezuela, Ecuador, Bolivia, Peru, BRAZIL and Paraguay) clamped her fangs down on Denise's neck and released a hot and spicy salsa/poison that is now coursing through the good doctor's veins. Denise describes the pain as a sharp stinging - which, ironically, is something she hears quite often as a sex therapist. Ba dum bum! I'll be here all week. Try the veal.
Upon further research into the poison that is slowly killing Denise, I came upon the following quote for the "Brazilian Wandering Spider." I bring it to you unedited...
It sways from side to side!!!
I don't want to point any fingers, but...
Some people would page a medic, get Golden Boy to pee on it, or chase Shakira down the beach with a firearm, but Blair decides that the best plan of action is to pray on it. Yes, gather around everyone. It's prayer time!
Heavenly father, please make this poison go through Denise oh so fast. Until then, cradle her like a baby and rock her back and forth like a mother would. And could you blow on her wounds while you're at it? I know it's not a burn and I know we didn't clean it with alcohol, but blow on it anyways. We ask you to heal this pain and comfort her.
Lord, we have a big challenge coming up. We have a big day. Those starving kids in Cambodia? The hell with them. Make Denise well, please. Just, you know, not TOO well. We don't want her to win or anything because we're thinking about voting her out. Final three, baby! And thanks for inventing sugar. Amen.
And this brings us to the big Immunity Challenge. Come on in guys! For today's challenge you will use planks to cross a rope bridge collecting pieces to a maze along the way. Once across you will take your maze pieces and - doh! - make a maze. Once your maze is assembled you will dingle dangle a ball through it. First person to get their ball in the finish hole wins Immunity. Survivors ready, go!
Out of the gate we see everyone using different methods with their planks. Golden Boy and Melty hurriedly place theirs on the rope while Shakira takes hers and files them down to sharp points. If a spider bite can't kill Denise, then maybe a wooden stake to the heart can. It's a risky method to use as the filing puts Shakira behind the others, but wait until she finishes. Have you ever seen a lady with habanero poison in her veins successfully run from a homicidal Brazilian? Me either. The others continue to collect to their puzzle pieces with Golden Boy and Melty maintaining a nominal lead.
Golden Boy reaches the platform and then... tim-ber! He falls into the sand and has to start the whole thing over again. At home I started to panic. I mean, I know Golden Boy is safe no matter what, but I'm always rooting for either him or Shakira to win. So, Golden Boy falls and my heart starts to race. But then I noticed it. You noticed it too, didn't you? His hair came tumbling down with that fall. It cascaded and billowed. So I smiled.
Oh sure the others are pulling ahead and Denise, with veins on fire, manages to piece her puzzle together faster than anyone else. Only, it's wrong Denise. Wrong! The hallucinations have started and the lines of her maze are all squiggly. They're dancing off the paint and into the sunlight. She tries to focus and fix the pieces, but they just won't slide into place.
Meanwhile, look who has come from behind and is ready to kick all of your asses. It's Golden Boy! Managing the impossible, he restarted the rope part, regathered all the puzzle pieces, put them in place while Denise was asking the wooden stairs behind her for help, and dingle dangled his ball through the maze.
No matter how hard Denise and Melty try to catch up, they can't. Which means... GOLDEN BOY WINS IMMUNITY!!!
Back at Migrayne the mood is somewhat relaxed. Everyone is hanging out enjoying the lazy afternoon while Melty sits fireside and keeps an eye on a covered pot. I don't know what is inside the pot and I don't know how large the gunpowder balls are that are fueling the fire. All I know is that Melty should stay away from fire, sharp objects, rocks, sticks, utensils, glass, polka dotted fish, water, pop and pillows for the rest of his life. You might be scratching your head at the pillows thing, but trust me. He'll get one stuffed with asbestos or with a family of Brazilian Wandering Spiders living inside. Just take my word on it.
So after the fire leapt up and tried to eat Melty, Shakira did a little reevaluating of the game and has decided that her only way to stay is to get Blair and Melty to vote with her to get rid of Denise. It isn't that crazy of a plan and it makes a hell of a lot of sense. The problem, unfortunately, is in Shakira's delivery of the pitch, "I'm being humble here. You can't win against Denise and Malcolm, puta." *giggles* While Shakira cracks me up endlessly, a guy like Melty (who hasn't had sugar for 30 yrs) isn't going to be entranced by brutal honesty and matter-of-factness. He's the kind of guy who needs smiles and parables and some sprinkles of the word "Lord" here and there. You need to come to him with bandages, iodine, and reasons why so and so isn't deserving. He's one of those annoyingly moral guys who probably says "Oh my word" instead of "Oh my God." So while Shakira makes a fuckload of sense to you and I, I know she won't crack his morally superior exterior.
Blair, however, has walked on the dark side and has found that she likes it. Just seeing Christopher Dollanganger sauntering into camp last week made her want to toss her rosary into the fire and say "damn" just for the hell of it. Where Melty is inherently good, I feel like Blair actually has to work at it. She has to remind herself all the time of what is right and what is wrong. Melty is such an innocent fop that he wouldn't know what wrong was if it sat on his face. Even then he'd probably compliment it and offer it some sugar-free cola. But Blair... Blair knows what evil is. She's been tempted by it all of her life. Melty isn't like that. Melty grew up on a commune sharing fruits and nuts with the rest of clowns at the Jester Academy while Blair shielded her eyes as she drove down Hollywood Boulevard. So when Melty approaches Blair with Shakira's plan to vote off Denise, the first words out of her mouth are, "Oh I like that."
Meanwhile, sensing that something is possibly amiss, Denise drops some hints to Golden Boy that she wants that spare Hidden Immunity Idol of his. Golden Boy shifts his eyes from side to side and assures Denise that there is no way they'll keep Shakira around tonight. He's confident that Denise is safe. And it is here that I wonder why Shakira and Golden Boy never had a conversation. Shakira is under the impression that Golden Boy and Denise are tight so it would have to be up to him to make the first move - like he did out on that boat with the others. All he had to do was approach Shakira with a plan to keep her safe. It would have been so easy! Damn you Golden Boy. *shakes fist in the air*
And this brings us to Tribal Council. Dimples asks Blair how the mood back at camp was after Golden Boy's win. Blair admits that Shakira was playing Survivor and making some very strong arguments to stay in the game. This, of course, causes Dimples to turn his attention to Shakira and once again be an inappropriately rude dickhead.
"So Shakira, you feel like you're in trouble?"
"Yes, my back is up against the wall."
"With all due respect, you've been detested. Laughed at! You're not likable. You're not a good person. You're just not nice."
And then Shakira flung a Brazilian Wandering Spider at his face.
Dimples brings up the point that since Shakira is so awful and wretched, she might be a great person to take to the end. Shakira replies, "Absolutely. I'm the best person to bring because they can all beat me." And there you have it. As far as I'm concerned, case closed. That's it. That's all you need to hear. You take the person you can beat. Again, ONE MILLION DOLLARS (or pocket lint if you're Jeff Kent).
Dimples then turns to Denise for her opinion on the case that everyone could beat Shakira. Denise replies, "Absolutely. If that's the game you want to play." The game you want to play? The game you want to play?! Oh come on! The only game you should want to play is the one that gets you one million dollars (poop on the bottom of your shoe if you're Jeff Kent). There is no other game anyone anywhere should be playing out here. Why put yourself through the mental and physical torture of the Survivor experience and then piss it all away because you want "good people" to get to the end? No, no, no!
And then Denise really sticks her foot in it when she says that it is because of luck that Shakira has gotten as far as she has. Blair hears this and shouts, "Oh hell no! My Fandango colors are screaming right now. It was not luck that kept us away from Tribal Council." Damn Blair. Nicely done.
Denise backpedals immediately and says she didn't mean to imply that Fandango got lucky. Denise, I like you and I realize you're trying to save yourself, but Shakira found an Idol. Shakira saved her money at that auction instead of buying herself a Grand Slam Breakfast. Shakira won Immunity when she needed it. And she was injured. And no one liked her. Babe, that's not luck. That's either skill or divine intervention from the great goddess Shakira herself.
Look, she's praying over us right now.
As with all hip shakes and booby thrusts, the goodness is only temporary. And aren't we thankful for that! Because hold onto your pasties, bitches. I give you the best scene ever.
"Choose me. You can beat me. No one can beat Denise or Malcolm. Melty or Blair can't win this game against Denise."
"What do you say to this Melty?"
"You know, it's so many things..."
"He's an idiot! That's why he's going to lose a million dollars."
"Anyway Dimples, let me finish my thought..."
"You're a moron! You are a moron."
"I guess that's her way of communicating. I don't know."
"He thinks he's going to win a million dollars at the end and he's not."
Hang on... I'll be right back.
*pads to the refrigerator and retrieves two bowls of pink glitter*
*sticks face in and blows*
I love this girl!
Which makes it all the harder. All the sadder. All the more miserable to say what I'm about to say. Standing here dripping in pink glitter a single solitary tear falls down my cheek.
Shakira is the 14th person voted out of Survivor Philippines. And this is how she left the Survivor set...
Others laughed when she pulled out her veil, but that's because they didn't understand her genius. Keep shaking Shakira. You will be missed.
So, what did you think of last night's episode? Did Melty and Blair make the right decision? How boring will the finale episode be without Shakira in the first 90 minutes? Finally, who do you want to win Survivor Philippines? Comment it out bitches and have a puta day! I'll see you back here on Monday for my final blog of the season.
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